


Wire-Trapped

by Cylin



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, First Time, Kinky, Knifeplay, M/M, Matt loves it, No Blood, Praise Kink, Spooky, Techie and Hux are brothers, Techie is terrifying, fear kink, is that a thing? fear kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/pseuds/Cylin
Summary: They warn new technicians not to wander into the server rooms at night. There's a monster there.Matt takes it as a challenge.





	Wire-Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> I got unfairly inspired by Jeusus's wonderful art ( [here](https://tired-techie.tumblr.com/post/160196263667/they-warned-the-new-technician-to-not-wander-in) ). Seriously, it was like a gut punch and then the characters just ran with it and took me (and my sanity) with them... XD
> 
> Betaed by the lovely Kyloream! Thank you again for wrangling this fucker! ^^

Matt steps hesitantly into the room, eyeing the rows of servers and more so the spaces between the rows. It all seems normal.

“Hello?” He asks, his voice only marginally louder than the hum of the machines.

Nothing spectacular happens. The room remains airy and light, the servers still hum and occasionally beep, their lights blinking on and off in an indecipherable rhythm.

“Helloooo?” Matt mocks for fun, feeling daring. This is stupid. There is no monster here.

Just when he starts to feel smug for all the superstitious technicians, the overhead lights switch off, plunging him in darkness. The door closes with a menacing hydraulic hiss and locks firmly behind him.

“Shit!” He curses as he whirls around, trying to get the door to open. But the small red light on the access panel informs him that the emergency override has been tripped.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“You… should have known b-better,” drawls a voice slightly harried from the darkness somewhere.

Fuck.

Matt turns around, eyes instinctively widening to see better into the darkness between the feebly blinking rows of servers. His heart is racing, his palms start to sweat, yet he feels a shiver run down his back all the way to his heels. He cannot make out anything. Despite the small lights on the server fronts the whole room is cast in shadows and darkness.

He swallows.

“Who are you?” His words seem to be absorbed  into the room. Matt waits for an answer, heart thudding madly in his chest.

“Everyone knows n-not to come here at night.” The voice says instead, and Matt is not entirely sure but he thinks it’s now coming from a different direction. His head whips to where he thinks it originates from. It also sounds closer. That thought makes his throat close up.

Despite the halting speech pattern and the occasional stutter, it doesn’t seem less threatening. There is a hint of playful cruelty underlying every word, that makes Matt’s stomach twist.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Matt tries to mollify whoever is stalking around in the dark. How can they even see in here? “I’m really sorry, I’ll leave. I promise.” The situation is starting to scare him. Fear is stretching its tendril grasp around his bones locking them up one by one. His heart is pounding, his lungs feel constricted by the effort to pull in huge gulps of air.

“They w-warned you, didn’t they?” The voice sing-songs, now a little muffled coming from behind something, probably one of the columns. “But did you listen?” The mock pity in the words, the perverse delight with which they soak into the space makes Matt’s blood run cold.

“No, I - I mean, yes, but-”

His voice falters, not knowing what to say, unable to talk his way out of this. His eyes skip frantically over the spaces between the rows of servers, trying to see if he can make out any movement in the dark aisles. The only things he can reliably make out are the lights on the front of the computer towers. Most of them blink on and off intermittently, except for two which stay on, their blue-ish green glimmer vaguely unsettling. Matt doesn’t pay them much mind, his brain too occupied with finding the voice’s source, until the crawling sensation at the base of his spine makes him look back. They are still there, still on. His stomach drops, heart hammering in his chest as he really looks at them, staring back at him. They aren’t server lights. They cannot be. All the other lights are on the fronts of the tower housings, but this pair hovers in the space between the rows, denser darkness framing them, reaching all the way to the ground.

They are like eyes. Reflective, glowing eyes.

Gasping, Matt takes a step back, but when he blinks they are gone. He tries to find them again, his eyes skipping and skidding here and there, but they are nowhere to be seen. Either they’re closed or the shadow moved. Both options don’t bode well for Matt, since he has no idea and no chance of knowing where the other is.

“But you,” the voice sounds again, continuing their conversation flawlessly, this time from somewhere in front and definitely closer, but Matt cannot make out anything in the deep, dark trenches of the server columns. The lights are off. Or maybe they really are reflective, only visible at certain angles. “You thought y-you could just do it, didn’t you?”

Matt doesn’t have a retort, because it’s true. He thought this was a stupid story told to new techs. A hazing. Something designed to scare superstitious and fearful newbies. He didn’t want to be one of those.

“Be-because you’re big...a-and strong. You thought you wouldn't get what’s coming to you.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck!

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry. Please let me go?”

The silence seems considering for a moment.

“Nope!” It finally sings cheerfully. The soft peal of laughter following is nearly swallowed by the droning hum of the server room. “You thought, because you’re big and to-tough, you didn’t have to b-be careful and heed the warnings.”

“Fuck, okay, seriously, I’m freaking out a little now. I-”

“Good,” the voice interrupts, jovial, “You should be.”

“Fuck, please! I mean-” something touches his leg and Matt jumps, yelling. He hits his shoulder on the door as he tries to scramble away, dashing between two rows of lazily bleeping computer towers. He only realises his mistake when he hears a snigger from further behind him. Whoever is in here stands between him and the only exit to the room.

Shit! Shit fucking fuck!

“Because you’re b-big, you thought n-nothing could touch you.”

Matt doesn’t want to know what it actually was on his thigh that startled him so badly. He skids to a halt and puts his back to the warm, humming surface of a server block. At least like this nothing can come at him from behind. He looks back the way he came, but can’t see anything except for the faint red light of the access panel to the door.

“You thought nothing could get to you.” The voice slithers through the housing of the server towers behind him. Matt goes rigid, his brain fixated on how close it sounds, how close it  _ is _ . Right behind him. Only the bulk of the server towers separating them. His heart races in his chest, seemingly trying to rip its way out of it, and his breath constricts to little, fearful gasps.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers helplessly.

There is no answer.

Instead he can hear faint scratching and some dull clanking. He listens intently trying to pinpoint what is happening and realises with blood curdling certainty that it is the sound of someone -- or something -- quickly scaling the other side of the block.

“There you are.”

Cold fear grips Matt’s chest from the inside as the whisper drifts down soft and indulgent from above. His muscles seize up with fright, freezing him in place.

He knows he should run, get away somehow, any way he can. But in the moment he cannot make his body move. Instead his head slowly tilts upwards of its own volition, as if taking some perverse curiosity in  seeing what is after him. His breath catches in his throat, stuck by the grotesque thing he sees. A shadow of thicker darkness hunches atop the row of server banks, curled around the edge, looming over Matt. The dark shape is pierced by two points of a weak greenish-blue glow, the room’s dim light reflected in two large pupils staring directly down at him.

Matt sucks in air to shout, but like his breath it traps in his throat. Bone-deep terror compresses his chest, making his legs shake. When he finally manages it, he moves, peeling his back away from the servers. As soon as his back doesn’t touch the housing, Matt breaks into a panic-stricken run.

He doesn’t get far. His foot catches on something on the floor and he slams face-first into the ground, barely catching himself. His palms scream in pain as he crashes into the floor. The impact knocks the wind out of him and his glasses off his nose. He hears them skitter away. Instinctively he reaches for them, squinting weakly into the darkness, but his fingers scrabble against the thick frames, pushing them further away.

Something lands beside him with a thud, then quickly crawls onto the small of his back. Before he can buck the shadow off, he feels pointy knees dig in between his shoulderblades, pinning him in place. A cool grip presses his outstretched wrists above his head, immobilising them against the floor. Cool strands are wound quickly around and around his wrists. It smells of plastic or rubber and Matt realizes they’re cables, electrical cables. They chafe against his wrists as he tries to twist his hands out. 

“Please!” Matt whimpers, turning his head around as far back as he can, trying to see the figure sitting on his back. His peripheral vision only shows him a silhouette leaning over his body. But it seems human shaped, the boundaries to the darkness beyond only visible by the absence of server lights. Matt’s panicked brain is flooded with hope. If it is a human being, maybe it can be reasoned with.

The cords around his wrists tighten. “No, don’t,” he pleads. The greenish-blue flicker of reflected light is the only thing suggesting the other is looking at him. Matt swallows, ready to bargain or beg for his life, when he sees the pupils narrow like an aperture, changing focus. Even before he hears the accompanying mechanical whirr, he freezes. His mind slows to only one line of reasoning, making his body seize in terror: this is no human, but a droid. And if this is a droid, then it is a malfunctioning one.  _ This _ is what created the myth about the monster. He is lost. There is no reasoning with a deranged droid.

He tries to hold them back, but feels his eyes overflow with tears. They trickle down his cheeks. He should’ve been more careful, he should have listened. Why can he never listen?

He sobs only once, a last bit of pride making him bite back the rest.

The weight on his back lifts, shuffles to the side. Strong hands grip his shoulders and then Matt feels himself getting flipped over.

“Are you… are you  _ crying _ ?” The voice has lost its mocking tone. It sounds baffled and a little concerned.

Matt turns his head toward the voice, but he can only make out a dark silhouette crouching next to him, just slightly set apart from the darkness around. His survival instincts kick in, and Matt thrusts his legs out, kicks the figure hard in the area where he assumes its chest to be. He sends the shadow flying, the squeal of flesh skidding over the floor loud against the hum around them.

Matt thrashes his legs, tries to get them under himself to get away, but the stranger pulls himself up and with an angry shout jumps on him. He crashes his full weight into Matt to pin him down once again. Matt wheezes, momentarily winded. His lungs burn for oxygen, his ribcage throbbing in pain.

Matt struggles and bucks, but the shadow is surprisingly heavy and clingy. It won’t be unseated. Sitting on Matt’s pelvis, immobilizing his arms, panting hard and growling, the other catches his breath.

Matt realizes the someone is warm and soft, not like any synthetic life form Matt knows, and more like a human.

“Asshole!” The voice hisses. It’s a man, a human man, and he sounds strained. Matt must have hit him right in his chest.

Muttering angry curses under his breath he bends Matt’s bound wrists to his torso, binding them to his upper arms. Like a parcel, or like a fly caught in a spiderweb. But despite this, Matt feels hopeful.

“You’re not synth,” he says, relief once again within his grasp. And while it is a question, he still makes it sound like a statement of fact. His chances to get out unscathed would be so much better with this actually being fact.

“No,” the someone says, clipped, still coiling cable around Matt’s arms, binding his lower to his upper arms. He leans over, close. “Didn’t you hear?” Breath tickles over Matt’s face as the last bit is whispered malevolently against his ear. “I’m a  _ monster _ .”

He is definitely human. No synth fakes the moisture on a breath, nor could one copy the soft, humid smell of air exhaled by something living. Matt finally feels his chest expand, the grip of fear lessening. He sighs. Human is a lot more safe than synthetic. Human is good.

The fingers working on the coils are deft and long, the knuckles that occasionally rub against his skin pointy and a bit chapped.

Matt can just about see the man’s outline. He is slight, but deceptively strong. He shifts on Matt’s pelvis to get a better grip at Matt’s arms, winding and winding coil after coil around them until Matt thinks he must look like he is praying with his arms and hands bound in front of him the way they are.

He feels a little lightheaded and oddly calmed by the weight pressing down and repetitive movements around him. Human is good.

The guy’s exhales strain a little as he manhandles Matt this way and that. Matt’s heart speeds up in a little burst.

He could do  _ anything _ .

The thought makes Matt shudder involuntarily and he curses his body for reacting this way.

The man stops. “W-wait, are you getting o-off on this?”

“No!” Matt squeaks, incredulous. “Hell no!” He feels his face flush. “I would never! - who would - I mean -  _ No _ !” He licks his lips and swallows, feeling the pressure between his legs build.

The other man remains quiet. Somehow, his silence feels deadpan.

“Maybe…. just a little,” Matt concedes barely audible. Denying obviously won’t help with the physical reality. He can’t hide the fact that he’s getting hard, and the  other guy can certainly feel it. How fucked up is he that he finds the situation a turn on when this guy could easily do him real harm? 

Matt doesn’t think he will. His server room stranger has been too careful. His bindings are tight and unyielding, but not cruel. If he wanted to harm or kill Matt, he could’ve done that a lot easier, and a lot earlier. Instead he just bound him more tightly.

“Oh,” is all he hears from the darkness.

Matt turns his head away in shame. He’s such a fucking creep. “Just - just get off me and forget it.”

Matt feels the other man lift his weight and is for a second relieved.

But the voice is hesitantly playful again when the stranger says, “I don’t th-think so. Because I want to - to know what happens when I do...this.”

Matt moans explosively when the weight drops back onto his groin, rubbing deliberately back and forth against his hardening cock.

“Wow,” the voice sounds genuinely surprised. Pleased, too. “You really get off on this.”

“Fuck! Please, I-”

“How about this?” The playfulness is fully back in the voice, blooms there. It makes Matt’s neck prickle all the way down his spine. Something worms between the crease of his bound arms and Matt’s lust-drenched brain takes a moment to realise where those long fingers are headed to. He whimpers, biting his lip to keep quiet and fails spectacularly as a cool fingertip rubs against his nipple through his work coverall. The sensation shoots like a flame straight to his dick. He bucks, nearly unseating the man above, who stops.

“Do you really want this?”

It’s the first time he hears even a breath of uncertainty creep into that voice.

Matt nods frantically, then whimpers out a feeble yes, because he still isn’t sure how much the other man can see in the dark, except for ‘more than Matt’.

“A-are you sure?” The man sits back, shifts his weight on top of Matt’s groin again. Matt manages to stifle a lustful curse and lets his breath escape in a hoarse groan instead.

“Sorry,” the man mutters. Matt can hear the cringe in the voice.

After lifting his weight completely off Matt’s groin - much to his disappointment - the man continues, “I mean, you w-were obviously terrified, like a se-cond ago and… and now you want to… you know? ...Really?”

Matt is now completely convinced the other man doesn’t want to harm him. His hesitancy even rouses Matt’s own playfulness.

“Untie me and find out,” he dares in a husky whisper, staring where he assumes those extraordinary - probably enhanced tech - eyes to be.

He hears the other man swallow.

“I - I really don’t want to - to get hit…”

“I won’t,” Matt promises.

“I d-don’t know...” The voice trails off uncertainly. “You’re not good with - with heeding warnings, so I don’t really trust your p-promises.” After a beat, he adds quickly, “No offense.”

Matt finds the addendum endearing.

“None taken,” he says and hopes the winning smile he plasters onto his face is audible, or that the man can even see it in the dark. “But, you know, honestly? In my defense, that warning made me more curious about this server room, not less. Not sure it’s really a good repellent.”

There’s a shuffling noise and a sniff. “Maybe,” the voice concedes.

Matt shuffles around as well to get more comfortable on the hard floor, spreading his legs a little wider than necessary. “You know,” he wheedles, “You’ll only know if my promise is real, if you actually untie me and see what happens.” He keeps his voice soft, because despite his earlier mockery and cruel playfulness, the man now seems genuinely shy and hesitant. Matt wonders if it was all an act.

The longer the silence stretches between them, the more Matt is convinced he will not agree. What happens to him then, he has no idea.

Then cool fingers are back on his arms, making him jump at the sudden sensation.

He feels the coils of cable loosening.

Before they are fully loose, the man draws back quickly, letting Matt free himself.

Matt can just about see his outline cowering against one of the server housings by the absence of server lights within it and the reflected greenish hues of his extraordinary pupils winking at him. Matt sits up, rubs the skin on his arms, and sees the shadow flinch at the sudden movement. The lights in his eyes blink off. He must have snapped them closed instinctively.

Matt makes a soft, soothing noise as he rolls onto his knees. He extends a hand to where he thinks the man’s head might be, leans towards him.

“No, please don’t hurt--” 

Matt’s fingertips make contact with the man’s head. He strokes the back of two fingers against a slightly sweaty temple, combing them into long hair, gently following one strand until it thins out to nothingness. 

“...me.” The voice sounds choked, as if he held his breath, believing Matt would strike him.

Matt’s chest tightens, clenches so hard that for a moment he finds it hard to breathe.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises sincerely. “And I won’t come back if you want me gone. But…” He peters off, feeling his face flush. He swallows, looks away though he’s uncertain if the other can see.

“But?” the voice coaxes, a note of hope in it.

“But your voice sounds lovely and,” he takes a deep breath, “and you smell fantastic...and all this,” Matt sweeps one hand around, hopes it encompasses the room, the darkness and the coils of cable around him, “all this is really hot for me.”

“Really?”

The genuine surprise makes Matt smile crookedly. He rubs the knuckles of one hand against the side of his head. He suddenly feels sheepish. “Yeah,” he admits softly into the space between them.

“Okay,” the voice says, and the shadow moves. Matt jumps as two cool hands frame his face, the long and narrow fingers combing into his own unruly hair. They tug experimentally and Matt moans, letting his head drop back as a spike of pleasure shoots into his groin at the slight sting. The other man’s hot breath washes warm and humid over his exposed throat, drawing closer.

“Wait,” Matt gasps.

He stops instantly.

“What’s your name?” He needs to know, wants to have a name to refer to his shadowy lover, one he can groan and shout, and mean only him.

“Techie.”

“Techie? Really? Cool! Hi Techie!” he babbles. “I’m Matt. Hi.”

“Hi, Matt,” Techie echoes, amusement colouring his voice. Matt feels Techie’s breath ghost over the top of his lips now.

“Yeah, hi,” Matt slurs. He feels lust-drunk and distracted as he tries to figure out where exactly those lips are that follow that exhalation. “Glad we got that covered,” he says huskily, chasing after the source of Techie’s quickening breath. “So glad,” he moans as he finally feels the slight bow of a top lip catching against his own. Surging forward, he laps inside of it, drawing Techie’s lip into his mouth with a heartfelt groan when he finally manages to close his lips over it. Techie’s lips are awesome, he thinks deliriously. Plush, soft, and slick with spit.

“Oh stars,” he curses between kisses. This is so unfair. “You taste good, too!”

Techie giggles delightedly. Matt feels him draw closer and closer, until something - he assumes knees - bump into his thighs and then Techie climbs on top of him, eagerly devouring his mouth.

Matt leans back until he is flat on his back with Techie above him, still sharing fervent kisses. His hips buck gently against Techie’s weight, swaying him into Matt’s lips with every lazy thrust. Matt really doesn’t want to let go of Techie’s mouth, but arousal makes him burn up inside.

“Techie,” he gasps between their mouths, “want you to-,” his brain finally catches up with his arousal. “Shit!” He lets his head drop back against the floor with a dull thud, staring unseeing into the darkness above. Techie makes a confused noise, not happy Matt’s lips are suddenly so far away from his.

“We need barriers and lube.” He doesn’t have any on him. Matt groans in annoyance, though it’s not like he could have know any of this would happen. “Crap.”

“I - I got some.”

Matt cranes his neck up and fixes the darkness where he thinks Techie’s face must be with an incredulous stare. He narrows his eyes in mock suspicion, feels Techie shift nervously above him.

“And why do you keep lube and barriers in a server room?” he leers. “What exactly do you get up to here that you have them always at hand?” He gives a dramatic eyebrow waggle for good measure. 

Techie swallows audibly in the darkness. “I - I - I don’t-! I mean, I do, obviously. Jerk off, I mean - Not- not what you’re thinking! - Just… I...I live here.”

That halts Matt’s thought processes completely. “What?”

“I live here,” Techie repeats in a small voice.

“Why do you live  _ here _ ? Don’t you have quarters?” Matt’s eyebrows shoot up and suddenly the charade with the monster living here falls into place. It all makes so much sense now. “You are a stowaway.”

“No!” Techie retorts decisively. “I earn my keep!”

Okay, so maybe it doesn’t make sense after all. The vehemence makes Matt feel guilty he suggested it. Techie obviously has strong feelings about being self-reliant.

“I just don’t like my rooms,” he confesses, his voice soft, the words muttered under his breath as if that fact is a personal failing of his.

And now Matt feels terrible for asking. He extends a hand into the darkness to stroke Techie’s head in apology, but Techie must have moved and his fingers bump clumsily into his nose. He feels it twitch under his touch, but Techie continues mumbling against his palm, undeterred. “I don’t like rooms like- like that. They remind me of...not so good things. So my brother suggested I keep to what I know and… and I  _ like _ it here. No one comes here usually and if they do, I can k-keep out of sight. I have more space here and the servers hum. It ca-calms me, you know?”

Matt does and doesn’t want to know what those ‘not so good’ things were, but he decides against asking. It’s not his place. Maybe Techie will tell him someday, but not today.

“Your brother works here, too?”

Techie is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he answers reluctantly. “He…I don’t like being around people much…and people don’t like me either, so…my brother makes sure I have what I need. He says to always be prepared…hence the…,” Matt assumes that Techie makes some gesture here indicating the lube and barriers. “I mean, I give him the money I make and he buys me my stuff and brings it here for me.”

“He sounds nice. Your brother.” Matt says, still stroking Techie’s cheek. He doesn’t want to let go. Ever. “He must care about you a lot.” Matt wonders if anyone but his mum will ever care that much about him.

“He does,” Techie confirms. They fall into silence. “Matt?” He asks after a moment, pushing his head more firmly into his hand. “Can we not talk about my brother right now?” A warm, wet tongue snakes over Matt’s palm. “I’d rather do something else.” There’s an impish note in Techie’s confession.

Matt moans. “Stars, yes!” He leans in, but before he can get lost in another searing kiss, Techie seemingly vanishes.

Matt makes a plaintive noise and feels a reassuring hand cradle his head for a moment.

“I should get the - uh - things,” Techie explains as he pushes himself up. “Should pr-probably check the dates on them actually,” he mutters under his breath from somewhere in the darkness.

Matt sits on the floor, the towers of computers humming and blinking away as his mind makes a sudden and uninvited recap. Is he really going to do this? Have sex with a stranger he cannot see, who has proven to be quite strong, yet apparently shy - if he isn’t impersonating a psychotic fiend in the dark…. And was that really an impersonation? Or an act? Or even a mental illness. Matt’s free now, but his hindbrain keeps coming up with all those fun ideas it likes Matt to participate in and….is he  _ really  _ going to do this?

His hindbrain gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up when Techie returns before Matt has made up his mind.

Ah, fuck it. His life works best when he doesn’t think about it too much.

“Uh, Techie?”

The silence seems inviting.

“Can you - maybe - tie me up again?” Matt asks hesitantly.

“Oh.” Techie says. “Oh yes! Definitely! You liked that?” He sounds incredibly happy about it.

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, “a lot, actually.”

The enthusiasm and sweet cadence of Techie’s voice goes a long way to mollify Matt’s concerns, but the sense of slight unease doesn’t fully dissipate. To Matt’s internal shame his cock gets harder at it.

Matt hears the rustle of plastic packaging and a dull thump next to him on the floor that he assumes is a bottle of lube as he starts to peel himself out of his jumpsuit. He gets his arms free and his shirt pulled out and over his head and is starting to wriggle out of the jumpsuit before cool hands stop him.

“Leave it on,” Techie’s voice whispers. There’s a hint of breathless darkness creeping in.

“How will we - I mean, how do you plan to get me out of my pants?” Matt asks, confused, then realises that he might be labouring under a misconception.

“You are going to fuck me, right?”

He hears a soft, hitching gasp in the dark, then a shuddering exhale. “Yes,” Techie breathes. “I have - uh - have an idea about - about that.”   
Matt blinks into the darkness, not sure what Techie means.

“Not the fucking, I know how -  _ obviously _ , I know how, I mean,” Techie babbles. “I mean, I have - already - you too, probably - I assume. I think, I hope - have you?”

“Uh,” Matt starts eloquently, but is overrun by Techie’s increasingly quick words.

“If you hav-haven’t then we sh-should maybe talk, but I think, you uh…oh stars, this is such a mess!” Techie whines to himself. He takes a deep breath, collects himself.

“I meant...I have an idea how to g-get you out of your clothes. Might be a bit - uh - weird though.”

“Okay,” Matt says dubiously, but still holds out his naked arms for Techie to bind. He doesn’t want to agitate him further. His gut clenches and tingles at the thought of being at Techie’s mercy again.

Techie binds him methodically. Matt notices that while the coils are as precise and unyielding as before, they’re not as tight and don’t cut into the flesh of his wrists.

While Techie works, Matt shifts a little to relieve the pressure on his rising cock.

“You okay?” he hears Techie ask quietly from the dark once he’s done.

“Yeah, totally,” Matt mutters as he tries to test the give of the cables. There isn’t much. He swallows the drool gathering in his mouth. Techie could do anything to him, and Matt would have a problem stopping him.

_ Anything _ . He shivers.

“Also…” Techie trails off and Matt hears him swallow in the dark. “Also with the… uh…. stuff I said?” He sounds hopeful, and apprehensive at the same time.

Although he cannot make out more than before and is effectively blind in the dark, Matt’s gaze snaps up at that, looking in Techie’s direction. The mental shrieking at the back of his mind gets louder. It’s about the danger Matt potentially put himself in, about Techie being dangerous, about the reality beyond the fantasy Matt finds so hot. While his body is engulfed in a wave of heat, his skin also breaks out in random patches of conflicting gooseflesh.

“The… the threatening stuff?” Matt asks to clarify, feeling his lower belly flood with warmth, his cock twitching hard.

“Ye-yeah?”

Matt doesn’t know how to respond. There is cold fear winding along his spine, but also a sense of anticipation, the chanting of his mind of,  _ Yes, yes, please make me really afraid and fuck me anyway _ . Despite of it.  _ Through _ it.

He swallows and nods, unable to look at Techie while he admits it.

In an instant Techie is on him. His weight slams Matt to the ground, again on his back, with Techie’s bulk pressed close. Matt feels winded, tries to catch his breath, but something cool and metal touches his collarbone and then his throat and steals his breath all over again

“Fuck!” Matt groans. “Is that…? Is that a  _ knife _ ?”

“Yes.” Techie says, but the minute pause beforehand makes Matt thinks it isn’t. Until weak light catches on something metallic, making it glint menacingly for a second, and then Matt isn’t sure anymore. Fear slithers down his spine, making his skin prickle and his cock jump.

Techie leans close and the sharp metal tip of something very pointy is pulled down his naked sternum, pushing the half-undone zipper open as it presses downwards, as if he is gutting something, opening Matt up both literally and figuratively.

Matt grits his teeth, trying so hard not to squirm.

Techie’s breaths quicken as more of Matt’s body is revealed. He lets out a gasp here and there, making the - maybe - hopefully not really, but maybe yes -  _ probably _ \- knife in his hands jump and push more dangerously against his skin. Matt feels it scratch, a plume of heat emanating from the contact, skittering through his body, pooling hot and churning in his cock. Matt dreads to think what will happen once Techie reaches _ it _ with his knife.

Techie draws a tight little curve over his belly button, the flesh jumping away nervously.

“Did you forget? I’m a monster, Matt.” Techie’s voice sounds so different, so much like before, dark and menacing and devilishly playful. It chokes Matt’s breath, pulling a whimper from deep in his chest.

He lets his head loll to the side, closing his eyes - they’re useless to him anyway - and just feels how fear and arousal surge and curl in his gut.

His hips twitch as Techie’s knife draws further down, closer to the erection tenting his work uniform, pushing the zipper in front of it. He wants to jackknife his body, to pull away as Techie pulls the frighteningly sharp tip of the blade over the curve of Matt’s cock, his flimsy cotton boxers the only thing protecting him. He can feel a thick drop of precome soaking into the fabric.

“Techie, please-” Matt’s further pleading is cut off by Techie jamming the flat side of his weapon against Matt’s throat again, successfully shutting him up. Matt cranes his neck back, his back arching, instinctively trying to get more space between the vulnerable skin of his throat and the cutting edge of the knife. Matt thinks he can feel Techie’s cock rub against his belly through the man’s clothes as he leans over.

“So you thought this would go according to what you want?” Techie mocks in the dark, yet his voice is so close, intimate, deceptively friendly. The soft whisper of it so at odds with its dark intent.

_ Anything. _

Matt’s heart slams in his chest, adrenaline sharpening his senses, making his muscles twitch with the need for action, his fingers splaying and curling into fists only to splay helplessly again. But his wrists are bound and Techie’s full weight is on him, and there’s a deadly weapon pushed under his adam’s apple.

Matt’s mind shrieks and howls with warnings, his spine tingling hot and cold with the conflict of fear and blast-furnace white arousal.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Matt whimpers, unconsciously mirroring Techie’s earlier words, his adam’s apple bobbing against the blade. He hears the soft click of lips spreading around a smile.

“Poor Matt,” Techie sing-songs. “The big guy got lost in the server room.” He makes a small sound, playing at regret and pity. “And you thought you were doing so well, huh?” Techie taunts. “Making me play along with what you want. Thinking, you won…”

Fuck.

Matt’s throat constricts. Panic slams into him. Was it all fake? Is _ this  _ real now?

“S-safeword?” Matt stutters, forcing the sounds past his tightening larynx.

“Oh yes. Which one?” Techie asks in his normal voice, flooding Matt with so much relief he sobs. One of Techie’s cool hands cups his cheek. His voice sounds worried, when he asks, “Are you okay?”

Matt nods. The thumb resting on the soft part of his cheek strokes slowly over his cheekbone. Techie seems to wait for him. Matt takes a deep breath, feeling his racing pulse calm a little.

“You really scared me there,” he admits in a small voice.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Techie whispers, leaning over, his breath caressing Matt’s face.

“No, it’s okay, I like that…in a way.” Matt falters a little, unable to explain the double-sided nature of his desire.

“Safeword feels safer,” Techie guesses and Matt nods. “Which one? ‘Red’?”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, now feeling foolish for having been scared. Techie pecks him on the lips quickly, before slithering down his body, deliberately brushing his thigh over Matt’s still hard cock. Techie pauses a moment and wiggles a hand between them. Matt moans, helplessly aroused when he realises that Techie is actually worming his hand inside his own clothes to stroke himself laying half atop Matt. Short, gasping breaths skitter against Matt’s naked chest through the open zipper and Matt wriggles, trying to rub his own cock against Techie.

All too soon in Matt’s opinion, Techie pulls away, settling between his legs, spreading them over his thighs.

Then his cruelly playful voice is back. “You can’t fight.” Techie purrs with obvious delight. “Can’t hide.”

Matt shivers, squirming.

“Can’t get away.”

Matt gasps for air. He feels lightheaded, his cock hard and aching between his spread thighs, jutting painfully against his boxers, the head rubbing against the wet patch.

“You can’t stop me.” Techie pulls at his trouser legs. They are wide enough to fit over his work boots. His boxers with their wide patch of wetness at the front go the same way, leaving Matt sprawled naked on the floor with his boots and socks still on and his cock slapping against his lower belly. With his heightened senses, it sounds embarrassingly loud. He lifts his bound hands over his head and surrenders to Techie’s whims.

Matt feels his head swim this time in a good way, oddly - maybe stupidly - trusting despite the fear still churning in his gut making his cock surge and drool. For a moment nothing happens and he thinks that Techie might just be looking at him, taking in the sight of him, sprawled, needy and helpless on the floor. It makes Matt blush. He hides his face against his biceps reveling in his shame.

Matt hears the click of plastic and the squelch of lube. He flinches as something cold touches the back of his thigh and realises with a full body shiver it is not lube, but the cold and unyielding press of metal.

“Spread ‘em,” Techie orders dispassionately and Matt complies with a whimper, pulling his knees towards his chest and splaying his thighs wide. He feels exposed, obscene, and wonderfully depraved.

Techie’s breath catches at his wanton display. The metal press of the blade does not relent, but Matt feels those long, cool fingers of Techie's other hand brush over his balls and up into his pubic hair, smearing sticky-slick lube everywhere. Techie's palm strokes broadly over the hard length of his cock. Matt bucks his hips once, then tries to keep still as the knife presses harder into the underside of his thigh in warning. He mewls softly at the touch of both metal and skin.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Techie sneers, “making me want to f-fuck you instead of doing all the other things I  _ could _ do to you.”

Matt’s brain registers the warning and the menacing goading, but it is stuck on one word. No one has ever called him pretty before. Pretty is for girls or, well,  _ pretty _ things, but not Matt. It makes it worse and better. His skin blooms in a hot flush of shame at how much he likes it and his heart stutters and hammers in his chest. He moans timidly, hoping to encourage Techie to maybe call him that again.

“Hm,” Techie ponders, his fingers drawing back down Matt’s cock to his balls, his perineum, and lower, sweeping in maddening circles over Matt’s hole, “I d-did something you liked.”

Matt moans again, squirms, despite the knife still at his skin. The cable around his bound wrists scrapes the floor as he moves.

He can’t say it, it’s too good, too bad.  _ Something _ . He doesn’t know. But he can’t say it. Instead he bites his own biceps, whimpering.

Techie slips the tip of his finger inside Matt. “C’mon, big boy,” he coaxes with a snigger. The endearment is both condescending and really hot, and makes Matt feel small and naked so far beyond the absence of his clothes.

“You can tell me.” Techie's voice sounds so different, so sure and cruel and wonderfully dangerous. Matt knows he should better be answering, but he shakes his head quickly, hoping that maybe Techie won’t see his denial in the dark and leave him unscathed.

Metal clatters softly on the floor and Matt realises that the knife is no longer poking into the soft skin of his thigh. Before he can figure out what Techie’s intention could be for letting go of his weapon, his hand grips Matt’s thigh hard, pushes it to the side until the tendons protest and plunges his finger all the way into Matt with a quick jab, hissing, “Tell me!”

Matt’s head snaps back and his back arches sharply before he howls. There is enough lube and he was relaxing into the penetration, but the suddenness of it and the explosion of sensation wipes his mind completely.

His hips buck wildly. Matt is not sure if he should squirm away from Techie’s finger or work it deeper into his greedily grasping arse. Maybe all options are good ones. He honestly can’t tell anymore. Techie must have added more lube as the push and pull is slicker and more obscenely noisy. He increases his savage pumping, making Matt choke and keen until he finally gives up under this exquisite onslaught.

“P-pretty!” He cries out helplessly. “You called me pretty!” He sobs, shame burning harsh and hot on his skin, searing arousal dissolving his insides. His cock is so hard it hurts as it bobs with his jerking hips.

“Oh.” Techie sounds genuinely surprised and seems to forget what he is doing for a moment, stopping completely, taking in this new information.

Matt uses this opportunity to catch his breath. His throat feels hoarse. And he does feel a sting below now that his mind is not solely focused on the sensations Techie wrenches from his body.

“Ow.” Matt complaints half-heartedly and Techie curses, slowly pulling his finger free.

“Shit, sorry, you alright?”

“Yeah,” Matt tries to reassure him. “Just - uh - a  _ little _ gentler. I- fffffffuck!” Matt gasps, his whole body tensing again, the darkness behind his eyes sparking as Techie slowly, carefully inserts two fingers squelching with lube and curls them against his prostate, making his belly twitch and shudder.

“Like this?” Techie asks, but all he gets in answer is Matt’s spine curving into him and a loud groan.

“Fuck, you’re hot!” Techie curses softly to himself. “And pretty,” he adds slyly. Matt groans louder, trying in vain to hide his face against his shoulder as his belly tightens and his cock jerks sharply, drooling a thick string of precome onto his quivering belly.

From the corner of his eyes, Matt sees Techie’s blink in and out of existence. They reflect the feeble light around them with their eery glow and then flicker out into near total darkness as his gaze presumably skips back from Matt’s face and down to his fingers disappearing inside him. Matt writhes at being regarded so intimately, hips shifting with Techie’s fingers inside him. He would love to know what face Techie’s making right now. He’d love to know what he looks like generally, but especially in this moment. His chest tightens as he watches those pupils flash and go out.

“Fuck me?” he asks instead.

Techie makes a small choked noise. His fingers seem to be shaking as he carefully probes at Matt’s hole with a third, until he pulls them out and pushes back in slowly and carefully with all three. “Soon,” he whispers, sounding breathless.

Matt moans in gratitude, pushing himself shamelessly back onto those slim fingers. He wants to touch himself and while he could even with his wrists bound, he’s afraid it would all end in one glorious but all too quick orgasm. Instead he mewls and writhes on the brink with Techie playing his body, wrenching sounds and sensations from him that overwhelm him in a myriad shudders of thrill.

“I can do whatever I want with you.” Techie whispers as he slowly pumps in and out of Matt.

The fact that he sounds both threatening and in awe is such a potent combination. Matt’s stomach clenches.

Without stopping his thrusting fingers, Techie curls over Matt, dropping his forehead against Matt’s stomach. He’s so close Matt can feel the gust of breath ghosting over his cock head as he speaks. “You would let me do anything,” he says hotly as he pulls all the way out.

“Yes,” Matt whimpers. He would, he would! Anything.

Techie’s fingers push back in. Deep, so deep, curling at the right spot, making Matt’s vision sparkle and his stomach clench wonderfully.

“I could gut you like a Burra and you would let me.” Techie’s voice drifts up hypnotically from Matt’s midriff, soft and dangerous, his breath flowing over his skin. Matt moans, unable to answer, fear and lust swirling ever more tightly together.

When Techie pulls his fingers free, the lube sounds slick and indecent. He moves, shuffling between Matt’s legs and Matt’s hazy mind manages with only a minimal delay of about three seconds to connect the sound of tearing plastic and Techie’s gasp to mean he is sliding on a barrier. He is proud of himself for his mental acuity.

“My big, pretty boy,” Techie croons. He rakes short nails over the underside of Matt’s thigh and his twitching stomach as he lines up, making Matt’s skin jump.

When the head of Techie’s cock starts breaching his hole, Matt realises with a short burst of panic that he won’t be able to last at all. His stomach is already tightening. He wants to warn Techie, to apologise for not being able to hold on. But when Techie slides in, he can’t even do that. Matt just chokes and seizes, coming so hard he can do nothing but twitch and gasp for breath. His body is wracked with pleasure as his cock spurts between their bodies and all over himself. Matt spends himself hot on his stomach, come sliding viscous and warm into his bellybutton.

When his body finally calms down a little, he tries to find his voice, but all that comes out is a sobbing whimper, followed by one last full body shiver.

Techie has stilled completely, letting Matt shiver and buck underneath him. One of his hands slides over Matt’s stomach now, up to his chest, accidentally smearing Matt’s come into the skin. Maybe it isn’t accidental at all. Matt isn’t sure; he can’t think clearly right now.

_Catch your breath,_ _man_ , Matt advises himself sternly. His skin twitches involuntarily where Techie touches him. It’s unnerving, but also leaves him with a nice prickly feeling.

“You can still fuck me, if you want,” he slurs out on a single breath, struggling to keep his eyes focused on the darkness he assumes hides Techie’s face. “I’d like that.”

“Oh,” Techie wheezes, “thank the stars!” Matt realises he had been holding his breath. His fingers, lube-slick and tacky, grasp around Matt's hips, pulling him hard against narrow hips as he thrusts inside him with a lot more desperation than Matt expected. His head drops onto Matt’s stomach again, uncaring of the smeared mess. He fucks into Matt in small quick jabs, chasing his own completion.

Matt’s eyes roll up as Techie's cock repeatedly touches his overstimulated prostate. He can’t tell if he likes it or if it is too much. He decides he doesn’t have to decide.

The forlorn, snuffling sounds Techie makes as he chases his orgasm make Matt’s toes curl in pleasure. His spent cock gives a feeble twitch, his stomach cramping almost painfully under the onslaught of arousal with no chance at an outlet. He groans, sounding pained, and pulls his arms back over his head. They settle around Techie’s neck and he weaves his fingers into the long strands of Techie’s hair, encouraging him to continue.

“Y-you forgot about the knife, didn’t you.” Techie says and it sounds so eerily not like a question. And he is right. Matt has no idea where it is and  _ he _ cannot see. His lower belly clenches sharply,  _ wonderfully _ at the spike of adrenaline and the accompanying worry lancing through him. He tightens reflexively around Techie, who curses and moans in triumph.

He is gasping and grunting low in his throat as he pistons his hips even quicker like a small, lust-crazed animal. His staccato breaths blast against Matt’s torso and he can feel Techie’s lips mash into his skin with every rapid thrust.

“I could still,” Techie wheezes, his voice so tight in his throat Matt has to strain to hear him as he smears the words against his skin, “s-still slice you open.”

Matt groans. He feels his balls tightening painfully, his hole grasping tight around Techie's cock at hearing the menace in his voice intercut with his small, urgent noises.

Techie’s thrusts suddenly stop, his whole frame vibrating with tension. The next instant his thrusting resumes in an utterly erratic and uncoordinated explosion of movement. A low, hoarse growl accompanies Techie’s climax as he ruts into Matt. His fingers will surely leave bruises on Matt’s hips as they claw into his sides, and he feels Techie spill into the barrier deep within him. He whimpers softly, which turns into a heartfelt groan when he slumps into Matt, plastering his slighter frame all over him.

Matt has to quickly angle his head up so Techie’s doesn’t crack into his jaw. Long strands of hair tickle over Matt’s collarbones, making his naked skin pimple in pleasant gooseflesh while a half-open mouth tickles against his right pec.

He still has his bound arms wrapped around the other man’s neck, and uses his thumbs and forefingers to awkwardly ruffle the back of Techie’s head.

He is absolutely charmed when he hears his efforts rewarded with a snuffling sigh and a wriggle that brings Techie even closer.

They rest like this. Matt listens to both their breathing patterns slowly align, Techie’s heartbeat thudding into his chest alongside his own. His fingers twine around Techie;s hair, tying the two of them together. He feels Techie slip out as he gets soft, but still he doesn’t move. This is all too nice to move.

“Can I see you?” Matt asks into the silence.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s...complicated.” Techie hedges, his voice sounding a little sad.

“Please,” Matt begs. “You’re able to see all of me, and I can only make out a really fuzzy silhouette.”

Techie pulls up from Matt’s chest, his skin sticking to Matt’s for a moment, and then stretches over him rummaging for something on the ground above Matt’s head. He makes a small triumphant noise and sticks Matt’s glasses back onto his face. They are a little askew, but that doesn’t really matter anyway.

“Okay, great.” Matt fights hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but fails. “I can now see a  _ sharp  _ silhouette. Really great. Thanks.”

He hears a small huff from the other man, but nothing else.

“Please?” Matt asks sweetly.

A sigh drifts over through the darkness. He’s pretty certain he hears Techie bite his lip. “You c-cannot tell anyone I’m here.”

The vehemence and the fear creeping in along the edges of his voice have Matt instantly nod in earnest.

“Or that I exist, actually.”

_ Okay?  _ He frowns. But still nods, then adds, “I won’t,” just to make sure there’s no misunderstandings in the dark.

“Okay,” Techie says, but it sounds like he is steeling himself rather than speaking to Matt.

The light flickers on. Matt slams his eyes shut against the brightness, squinting, tears springing to his eyes. The intensity dials down. In the dim light Matt can finally open his eyes enough to squint at a slim, gaunt man crouching next to him, slipping a small remote back into the large pockets of his oversized cargo shorts.

His hair is long, glinting dull red in the low light, and his eyes are mechanical implants as Matt suspected. They whir and click nervously as his eyes shift, unable to settle their gaze on him directly.

“Fuck,” Matt says.

“Yes, I know. I look a lot like my brother.”

“Fuck,” Matt says to this new information, frowns, then backtracks to clear up the misunderstanding. “I meant ‘Fuck, you’re beautiful,’ but got stuck.”

After a moment of Techie gaping incredulously at him, Matt adds, “But now also, ‘Fuck, General Hux is going to kill me.’” A second later, the span of which his brain uses for horrible, horrible inspiration, he adds, “imaginatively,” and then after a beat whines, “and very,  _ very _ slowly.”

“Well, we already fucked,” Techie says rather matter of fact with a shrug and an impish grin that still looks anxious around the edges. “So he’s really too late if he wants to pr-protect my v-virtue.”

Now in the light, lank hair, quick darting eyes and squirrely expression Techie looks like he could be very virtuous. Innocent, even. But Matt knows better, feels like he shares in a secret between them that is as precious as it is fragile.

He doesn’t know what to say, but he also feels like the more the silence stretches between them, the further Techie draws into himself. He’s pleased that Techie doesn’t flinch away from him as he sits up and looks around. His eyes settle on a short, metal ruler near his hip. 

As it finally clicks in his brain, the pieces falling into place, Matt laughs, guffawing once loud, then draws back the sound, chuckling more quietly to himself. “So it wasn’t really a knife.”

“No,” Techie answers. “I wanted it to b-be safe. W-was that okay?” He sounds so unsure, parsecs away from the playful menace or the easy familiarity of before.

“Yes, of course!” Matt beams at him. “More than okay.”

Techie doesn’t directly look at him. He slumps down on his haunches, folding his legs underneath him, uncaring of his limp dick still out of his pants or the wrinkly barrier hanging half off it. His fingers twitch nervously to the hem of his off-yellow shirt, but don’t touch it, although Matt is sure they want to.

“I mean, it seemed as though you like - uh - danger, so I wasn’t sure…. I mean, if it was all a fantasy, maybe you wouldn’t… uh…like it as much.” He mumbles towards his own chest.

“I still like it as much. It was real for me. For a time. You made it real. And that was awesome!” Matt doesn’t know how else to say it, how to make Techie see that this was the hottest encounter he’s ever had and that he thinks Techie is absolutely wonderful and sexy as all hell. Matt just wants to scoop him up and carry him to his quarters to care for him, make him feel nice, if Techie will allow it.

“Really?” Techie asks, and he sounds unsure and uncomfortable.

Matt frowns. Clearly something else is going on. “You okay?” He asks carefully.

“Y-yeah, you?” He sounds like he is deflecting. After all, they already covered that Matt is fine. More than fine.

“Very much.” Matt reassures again, but he can see Techie is still unsettled. “What is it?”

Finally Techie’s fingers find the hem of his shirt, worrying it with a fierceness that causes his knuckles to whiten and makes Matt’s chest clench.

Two false starts are needed before Techie finally whispers, “The stuff I - I did - I mean,  _ said _ … Was that really...uh…okay?”

“Yes.”

Techie still stares at his lap, kneading the hem of his fraying shirt and pulling it over his flaccid cock. His teeth gnaw into his lower lip again and Matt fears he might bite through in his discomfort.

“Are _ you _ okay with it?”

“I d-don’t know... “ Techie admits after a moment of silence. The nervous fidgeting of his fingers increases, the fabric straining between them. “It’s j-just nice to have som-someone else be scared for a change.” He looks ashamed at his admission.

“You were absolutely fucking terrifying and I loved it!” Matt’s voice is earnest, and maybe a little too loud. He softens it to a more intimate tone. “I loved it,” he repeats softly, willing the meaning of just  _ how much _ deep into Techie’s skull.

Silence stretches between them like an ever-opening maw, the only sound the rustle of Techie’s fingers clawing the fabric of his shirt. Finally he swallows and looks up at Matt, whose whole chest unclenches in relief. Techie still looks deeply uncomfortable, but also the tiniest tad hopeful.

“I did.” Matt affirms in the lowest, most intimate voice he can and still make the statement carry.

Techie just nods. He doesn’t stop his fidgeting, but the action looks a lot less hateful towards himself.

“Can I kiss you?” Matt asks, then adds with a wry grin, “I mean, again?”

Techie nods, more enthusiastic now and wordlessly angles his head towards Matt, extraordinary eyes drifting shut, his lips dropping open in invitation.

Matt, still naked except for his socks and workboots, his wrists still tightly bound together, rolls onto his knees. His hands bury into the front of Techie’s shirt close to the center of his chest, gripping hard, as he ravages Techie’s mouth like his life depends on it. Maybe it still does. Matt shivers a little at that stray thought.

“Can I maybe come back and uh...get caught here again?” He asks between gentle licks, hopeful.

“I’d like that,” Techie says, grinning against Matt’s lips.


End file.
